


Blueblood

by RaisonDetre



Series: R E D // Emperor|Empress AU [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi (2017)
Genre: Arrange Marriage, Emperor Kylo, F/M, Force Bond, Forced Marriage, Hurt!Rey, Pre-Marriage, Rey fell like 10 stories and now she's like halfway dead, angry!kylo, rey really doesn't want to marry kylo-- surprise!, scared!kylo, scavenger!Rey, she don't die but she sorta wouldn't mind it, stubborn!rey, there's a bounty on rey's head bc kylo is obsessed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-10 23:59:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13512474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaisonDetre/pseuds/RaisonDetre
Summary: For a while, she thought he wasn’t real. The sand finally got to her. She had made a friend out of a mirage.|| The story of Rey's capture ||





	Blueblood

**Author's Note:**

> All mistakes are mine.

Sand sticks to the roof of her mouth as she coughs violently. Somewhere in the back of her throat, she tastes the metallic tang of blood crawling up her airway. Her entire body lays perfectly still, too weak to move, too scared to find out which part of whatever hurts the worst. 

She knows something is broken. Something significant, maybe, she doesn’t know. She doesn’t care. Maybe-- she thinks as her face nestles further into the bed of sand, one nostril filled with the tiny grains—maybe, she should just let herself die here. Disappear into the Earth. Decompose silently. No one will look for her. Other scavengers will step over her shallow grave, clueless to the body laying beneath. 

Maybe she’ll be pushed deep enough over time, maybe her bones will be pressed into diamonds, and a starving youngling will find it in half a millennium and trade the common rock for a meal ration. 

She likes that idea. 

She’ll die happily. Well, not happily, not even sated. Well-timed. Conveniently. 

She needed to disappear. The sands of Jakku forgot how to conceal her. No more could she camouflage among the tired, dust-covered faces of her planet. She was no longer a simple girl, sifting through fallen warships for a measly supply of food. Now, the sun only seemed to beat down to find her, following her through the deserts, corralling her sunburnt feet into a fate she refused. 

It is beginning to hurt. It being nearly every part of her body. The still numbness has disappeared, leaving her with the oncoming thrill of pain winking at her between broken bones and open wounds. 

She shouldn’t have climbed 300 meters above the dunes, but she did. She allowed herself to dangle and jump and run across edges thinner than her feet. She shimmied down and up and across steel rope. She yanked wires out of panelboards on ceiling tops fifteen stories high. 

Now, she paid the price. 

Whatever was in her scavenging bag, a few bolts and half a ventilator, would hardly give her two rations. Much less the kind of medical attention she needs. She would have to trade her speeder, she thinks—before she stops. 

There is no way she could even crawl the four kilometers to her speeder, much less drive it into the village, and then find a doctor who wouldn’t recognize the bounty on her bloody little head. 

Think, Rey. 

She moves her eyes, the only thing that doesn’t hurt, and stares at nothing but surrounding sand, and behind it, an endless wall of metal from the starship she spent the last month scavenging. 

Okay, Rey. Death is imminent. Just. Just relax. For once. For these last few moments of consciousness. 

“Rey.”

Her eyes fly open. She recognizes the voice. It trespassed in her dreams. Never left her alone, and only came when it wished. Or maybe, it was just sporadic. Maybe there was no control from neither one of them. 

“No,” it hurt to talk. She still spoke, even in the state of a broken doll, her bruised mind knew enough to deny him. To keep running. To always run. Even when her legs lay shattered in the sand.

“Rey,” his face is hovering over hers, pale as Death who hovers somewhere behind him, waiting for Rey’s battered body to give one last shuttering breath. His fingers fumble over her chin. The touch hurts. His touch always does. 

“No,” she whispers again, tears beginning to form again in the ducts of her eyes. “No, I—I don’t,” she tries, desperate now. For the first time in half an hour, she tries to move. 

Her body doesn’t like that. She immediately freezes up at the slightest fraction of movement. Her bones are all wrong, broken and bent and sticking out of skin.

“Don’t move,” his voice hisses, even after she holds herself like a statue withered in the sand. “Where are you, Rey?” He demands to know, frustration evident in his words. “Tell me.”

She doesn’t say anything. Instead, she stares up at the ceiling of the ship. 

Some time ago, a long time ago, it crash-landed here. Slowly, it was buried underneath a mile of sand, the only entrance to the outside world hidden in the sand and tumbleweed. It was a tiny pocket two stories high, a bent metal mouth with broken teeth and hanging wire, hardly big enough for Rey’s lithe figure to squeeze through, it offered the only above-ground entrance to the ship.

The ship was good pickings. Sometime before her, earlier scavengers raided the cafeteria and left everything else. Jakku was always short on food, but once, the currency wasn’t in heaps of metal. What remained was what put her in this predicament. The control panels. The custom screws. The scrap metal strong enough to withstand the stars. 

“Rey,” he doesn’t touch her. For once, he’s scared to touch her. 

Maybe she should break her bones more often.

She can see him, black boots stomping in the sand, like he’s here, like he’s tangible. His hands land on a surface she can’t see. He moves something towards his mouth. He must be readying himself to give an order to his ship.

“You must think this is incredible,” she whispers after a moment. Her throat gurgles with blood as she speaks, slurring her speech. 

“What?” He hisses. He looks angry. He looks disheveled. Like he never had something taken away from him. Blueblood does that to you, Rey guesses. “You are two seconds away from—from death, Rey! Gods, just tell me where you are!” He looks lost, like a scared child throwing a tantrum.

The scavenger shakes her head. Or, she tries to. The pain climbs too fast over her spine. Instead, the only protest comes from a gasp escaping her lips. 

“I’m not going to let you have me,” Rey promises more to herself than him. 

She wonders what she must look like to him. Like a wrangled porcelain doll thrown across the room and into the wall. He must think he can pick her up and brush her hair behind her ear, like she can be glued back together, and besides the tiny chips on her smooth surface, nothing will change.

Even now, it would take a miracle for him to find her, and for her to recover completely. She’ll be dead soon. 

He stares at her, and with her now blurring sight, she takes him in. He’s heaving. His dark suit is slim and fits to his strong frame. Strong because he never knew a day of hunger, like the majority of the galaxy. Everything he wears is black, like she’s staring into the night sky, like the moles freckling his hands and face—the only skin left to the light—are constellations of stars. The only color in his uniform lays beneath his cape, a crimson shade of silk, soft to touch—or, probably soft. She doesn’t know. Everything is hard here. Everything is tiny and grainy and rough and gets trapped beneath fingernails. 

“So—so you’d rather die!” He questions with disbelief. He doesn’t understand an existence like hers. Doesn’t understand how long she’s been waiting for this. “You would rather die than live… live beside me, as a queen, as my queen?” He says the words like common knowledge, like his request—his unappreciated proposal—is mundane. 

“Yes,” she doesn’t hesitate. She’s told him countless times. She’s screamed at him from inside her tiny hut. She’s thrown rocks and shoved blades into his flickering existence. But, he moved like a dream. He wasn’t actually here. 

For a while, she thought he wasn’t real. The sand finally got to her. She had made a friend out of a mirage. 

But after his proposal ran clear, actually meant something—turned completely real—his obsession became finding her. Rey had been captured by bounty hunters thrice. She hasn’t slept on a real bed since her hut was raided by Stormtroopers.

Ever since, his presence has been obvious on Jakku, and soon, she found posters with her name and a written description. No picture, thank Gods. The only kindness he allowed her. Strangers spoke to her, trading her scrap metal for rations as her wanted poster hung behind their heads. 

“No,” a slam of his fist echoes, pulls her out of her maze of thoughts. “No, Rey. I’ve—I’ve played this game of hide and seek for too long. You either tell me where you are or… or,” his eyes, sometimes dark, shine a sickly yellow. Always yellow when he’s angry. It meant danger. It meant blood and death and the red glow of a lightsaber over the bodies of rebel soldiers.

“What? Do you think you could force me into telling you where I am? What kind of—kind of pain could you send into me?” she wants to laugh. She tries—but she can’t finish it. Something sticks into her lung as she does, causing a violent wheeze to erupt out of her body. “I’m dying, your majesty,” she says, tongue dripping in venom-- and blood. 

He freezes. A perfect pause. The unnatural stillness of a predator ready to spring. 

Then, he moves. He pounces. 

“I will release every Stormtrooper on my ship onto Jakku,” he promises, teeth gritting together as he says it. He sneers, like a wild animal growing more and more excited at the smell of blood. “And with the orders to kill everything on sight aside for you, the entire planet will be decimated,” he smiles. “And when I find you, Rey, I promise, you will be awake long enough to watch this pile of rocks you call home implode into nothing but space dust.” 

“Rey,” he levels his gaze with her once more, giving her a moment to answer, to stop all of this needless violence. 

She stares at him, wide-eyed, terrified, cornered. 

“Fine,” he breathes in, turning away from her, cape rushing up at the sudden turn. “I’ll see you soon—“

“Kylo,” she cuts him off, hazel eyes shut tight as tears begin to freely flow down her face. 

He turns around at once. 

“I’m 20 kilometers southward of the Niima Outpost,” Rey tells him, opening her eyes long enough to see his face split into a wolfish grin. 

 

She inhales the smell of dust and the uncomfortable heat of the sand, stamping it to memory as she says goodbye to the prison of the desert, only to be placed into the cage of Kylo. Somewhere too close, Kylo's voice rings with the order of an immediate landing on the planet.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope y'all enjoyed. I really like writing in this world. Everything will be out of order. 
> 
> I really appreciate comments, and lowkey, new ideas for the next installment in this timeline.


End file.
